The rose
So perfect and dainty,
Nestles its splendor in my palm.

I shed one tear
Which falls and forms an oval
Of fine crystal
On one red velvet petal.

I sigh . . . happy
As long as I can cry
Over sheer beauty,
I am alive.

And when the time comes,
When a rose holds no place in my heart,
Then there will be no reason to live . . .